


Remember your future and past

by Cejes



Series: Future and past [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Harry Potter and Tom Riddle in the same school year, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Tom Riddle's Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-21 09:44:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14913041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cejes/pseuds/Cejes
Summary: Harry Potter wakes up in very much younger version of himself; and this version is Harry and at the same time it's not Harry.----As Harry felt someone slip inside his mind he remembered his mum who was telling him to think of casual things because so whoever tried to infiltrate his mind couldn't find anything from importance. The other thing he remembered was like a shadow, a vague memory of a long lost time. He watched the frame of a man telling him to clear his mind and then incredible pain.------It's the story 'A small balance between now and then' from Harry's point of view.





	Remember your future and past

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone, this is what happened if you you can't sleep. It's the story 'A small balance between now and then' but this time from Harry's point of view. I hope you enjoy you you read and let me know what you think about it.  
> English is not my first language, so it's likely that you will find mistakes.

Harry Potter was one of the few persons who knew who he was from the beginning. He didn't need to think about it, it was just fixed in his very being, something he was aware of just like the knowledge how to breath. And in the rare occasions where he wasn't too sure someone else knew it for him. He was, depending on time and the person, a hero, a liar, a student, a teacher, a survivor, an enemy, a friend or even a lover. Sometimes he got along with the term they used for him, but other times he was convince that they had to be pretty stupid.

Harry Potter was someone who knew his values, what he appreciated and what characteristics he didn't _fancy_. He was a man with a clear goal and that depended on what was going on in his life; but mostly it was his job to make sure that he survived long enough; and to make sure to be in a good state of mind, even if the last one was a different story if you considered his life. As a child he had to make sure to get enough to eat and to be in time with his chores. As he came to Hogwarts, his first duty was it to be a more or less good student and with the second half of his first year it was to survive the world which had rescued him from his relatives for nine months of the year. At least he knew that he would get a meal every day and that he had a warm bed. (Between being a student and a survivor he had to be a friend, a hero and an avenger, even in his first year. Ridiculous, if you think about it now.)

After the war was won, Harry was convinced that he could do whatever him pleased. That he could be “just Harry” as he told Hagrid before his first school year. That he could be himself and not the hero of the damn wizarding word, the liar and the honest. He tried to be a good friend. He really did; and he was a good, a very good, friend. Harry smiled and talked, he woke up deep in the night with nightmares, screaming, and went on with his day like nothing had happened.

If Harry would be honest with himself, he would admit that he never felt so alone before. The war had ended, that was true, but to which price? So many who were death or hurt. So many who lost their family or a friend or a partner. Children which were orphans now and parents without their child.

“There is a reason,” he told Ron and Hermione one day, “for everything.” He saw in their faces and recognized their disbelieve. Harry wasn't sure whether he trusted his own words either, but he hoped to hear an explanation for everything.

He was Harry Potter, cursed to stay in his own life which felt like a damn trap.

 

 

One day he closed his eyes as the nineteen-year-old Harry Potter and as he opened them again he was sixteen again. How he knew that? He wasn't so sure. Why he wasn't a bit more surprised? Because he was Harry Potter; his life took strange turns every while.

The bed he laid in felt warm and comfy, a heavy blanket was placed around his body and all he knew was that he was Harry Potter: Nineteen years old, survivor of a war, best friend and late for work. As Harry opened his eyes he was a teenager, his surroundings were lightened with the first sun rays of the day. Out of daily routine he took his glasses and then he froze; shocked. There, at the other side of the room, was Tom Riddle. Looking like he had every right being there and that it was just a normal thing Harry had to expect. Harry watched the boy as he dressed himself in a Slytherin uniform. He had to be around 16 or 17. He looked like a _teenager_. That wasn't right. Harry saw him dying. His thoughts circled and didn't found a beginning or an ending.

Harry watched him as he stood up. This _boy_ was the man who caused so much harm. Because of him... Harry saw the pictures of the war. Death bodies and tears wherever you went. But this... He looked kind of innocent. Harry felt the urge to chuckle. His life was indeed strange. Snape would be pleased to watch Harry in his current situation.

“If you don't want to be late, you should stand up.” And Tom Riddle left Harry Potter speechless.

 

The longer he stayed in 1945, the more he forgot about his previous life. Here he was just Harry Potter, an average Slytherin student with one Ravenclaw friend, because she had reminded him off Luna earlier. She looked as dreamy as Luna did and sometimes she said just as odd things. It was refreshing and helped him not to forget everything.

 

Harry was still sixteen as his graduation year at Hogwarts started. He sat alone in a section, waiting for Selene, with a book in his lap. 'Advanced Potion Making' was written as the title and something deep inside him yelled at him that he knew something similar. He didn't think about it so much.

“Potter,” someone greeted him and Harry turned around, eyes round and almost dropping his book.

“Riddle,” Harry answered and tried not to look down. Harry was wary around him, something about the boy send chills over his body. He still remembered himself in his first year; trying to befriend Riddle and the words Riddle had told him. _“You aren't worth my time, Potter. Friends are just a waste and no opportunity.”_ After that Harry had stopped and ignored him. It wasn't like he would deny Riddle anything, no, of course not. He was part of the Slytherin house and a tiny part of Harry was proud that Riddle put up that reputation of himself; which was transferred to the house.

Harry breathed out as Riddle closed the door of the section and a shaky smile appeared on his lips. Slowly his body gained a bit of the warmth back and he relaxed in his seat. He wasn't sure what was happening every time he saw the other boy but it wasn't a great feeling and he could manage one or two days without it.

“Harry.” Selene's voice reminded him of the beauty of starry nights. Of the beauty cold things could possess. She had wonderful white hair and pale skin, almost matching his own when he had a bad day or night. Her eyes were blue just like the sky.

“Selene.” He nodded and forced a tiny smile on his face. “How have you been?”

“No need to smile, Harry,” she answered instead, sitting in the seat opposite to him. “Would you be so kind and look over my assignment in Defense Against the Dark Arts?”

It was nice to be in her near, Harry thought. The landscape the same since their first year and it lost just a bit of its charm.

“Would you meet me at the astronomy tower tonight?” Selene asked, handing over some papers. “It's a wonderful night to watch the stars dance.”

 

Harry wouldn't say that he was surprised as Dippet announced Riddle as the new Head Boy. Slughorn beamed and Riddle looked as stoical as ever; but Harry could see a hint of triumph in Riddle's eyes because he had watched Riddle for a while now. It was an urge he couldn't suppress. There was a small, a little voice that told him to watch, to be careful and ready. For what? He didn't know.

As Harry felt something slip inside his mind he remembered his mum who was telling him to think of casual things, because so whoever tried to infiltrate his mind couldn't find anything from importance. The other thing he remembered was like a shadow, a vague memory of a long lost time. He watched the frame of a man telling him to clear his mind and then incredible pain. It was horrible.

That night Harry met Selene at the tower and they just sat there together back to back, enjoying the quiet company. Harry felt like he could cry, his body exhausted from nothing and he was confused because of no reason. Tiring. And the wind was their silent partner, along with the moon and a few stars.

 

This night sleep was different from the others. Harry was still dreaming, but this time there another person, or rather another _being_ because Harry couldn't tell whether it was human or not. Instead of screams full of agony, fear and pain, he was greeted by a somehow warm feeling in his gut. A welcome change.

He was fully aware of the presence reaching out to him, a longing sensation swept over him, a bit hungry and dark. It pushed against his lips, testing and even a bit unsure.

Harry woke up, knowing that he had forgotten something very important. Something about _himself_. And he felt warm and secure, confused.

 

The lessons started and Harry thought that it was ok to be back at Hogwarts because it was home. It was strange and weird since he never thought of Hogwarts as his actual home, because that was within his parents and their house, manor. Potter Manor. Not too big to feel uncomfortable and not to small to feel wedged. He didn't know why but Harry hated small places out of nowhere. One day it was alright to hide in a cupboard to escape his chores, they had house elves for a reason, and the next second he had a panic attack. His parents tried to calm him down, to reassure him that everything was fine but Harry was convinced that nothing was just _fine_ and for a brief moment he wondered where he was and who his parents were because his parents were _dead_.

So Hogwarts was home, Hogwarts was where he was always secure. Almost always.

 

Selene told him he had a beautiful tragic soul one evening. He laughed and told her that she had no idea and she smiled knowingly. Then both of them went on to read in the books before them; Harry still tried to figure out from where he thought to know the potions book. The voice in his head, he refused to give it a name or tell someone about it because they would declare him as mad, whispered amazing things about a prince but Harry couldn't catch more of the faint words.

“There's trouble in your head,” Selene said in a serious voice.

“You know... There is that little prince and he seems to mock me.”

“There're many princes, Harry. Small and big.”

“Yeah.”

 

The following nights he dreamed not of the calming presence. No, he dreamed of his 'other self' as he called the happenings where he watched a small boy named Harry Potter, just like his name was, growing up. It was a sad life with just a few friends and even less good events, a lot of pressure and near death experiences. Sometimes he was an observer, other times he was the boy himself.

It was obscure to watch the boy grow into a man with many abilities. In a way Harry envied the other boy because of the things he could do, how his magic reacted to him and what he could do. But then he watched this Harry being tortured in many ways. Watched the war and he knew that something had to change because he couldn't stand it any more. And then he was this Harry, confronted with his feelings. The loss, the hate, the friendship, the war. How his life changed from a horrible childhood, to hope as he discovered that he was a wizard and not a _freak_. The hope was shattered and replaced with the will to survive.

The war was what altered him. His friends, Hermione, Ron, Neville, Luna, Ginny and Fred and George, were at his side. They fought, they suffered, they lost so much and finally won. But to what price?

On the fifth day he woke up and knew that what he saw was reality. It took him minutes to catch his breath, to hold back all tears and to put the numb feelings away.

He remembered Tom Riddle as well. He was going to be sick.

 

A week later he found refuge in the company of the being. It was nice and warm, but then it changed and grow into something harmful. Harry could hear his other self whisper to run, to find protection within Hogwarts wards and he did run. The pictures of burned bodies hunting his every step, a tortured Hermione, dragons and he wanted to scream, to feel alive again.

The safe place happened to be the place where he meet with Selene. He broke down, sobbing and knew that it wasn't appreciate for a Slytherin. But he was a Gryffindor as well. His hand reached out, touched Hogwarts wall and he could feel his own magic reacting. It was like the magic in his dreams, he realised. It was _his_ magic. Strong, powerful, listening to _his_ will.

Hogwarts answered his call and Harry laughed freed. It was such a pure feeling, such a joy after this whole mess. And it almost let him forget his past and future. The old magic was wrapped around him like a blanket, protecting him from wind, and his magic played with it and was pushed inside the castle as Harry's head touched the stones. He could feel the life and this moment he knew that nothing was doomed and that he, _they_ , still had a chance left.

“It hurts to know, Tom,” Harry said slowly and looked at Riddle. Hogwarts told him that Riddle was there, watching him like he had watched Riddle, whenever he had an opportunity to keep an eye on the other boy. He wanted Riddle to know, to know what he did to him. “The pictures.” And suddenly it was not enough to feel Hogwarts' magic. He was only sixteen years old, he missed his old life, his friends. His peace.

 

After that particular night Riddle wouldn't let him go. Where Harry was, Riddle was seen as well. Harry remembered fragments of the night and it was like the beginning of his dreams again; just pictures and frames but not the whole thing because every time something was missing and he just wouldn't know _what_. It was exhausting and nerve-racking. It was not enough that he had to deal with his daily life, the life he started to remember, the other odd dreams about a presence and the school, but no, Tom Riddle had to be everywhere where Harry was. Now that he knew how dangerous Riddle was, he didn't value the special kind of attention he gained from the other boy. Even his little bootlickers were acting different around Harry, more hostile because he got what they wanted so bad, and Harry thought he had to murder someone if this wouldn't stop.

“Happy Birthday, pretty little lost soul.” Selene smiled, a colourful package in her hands and clouded eyes. For the first time Harry wondered what sh actually knew and whether she would tell him or not. “At least you aren't sixteen any more.” He had complained to be the youngest and that everyone would know because of his age.

“Thanks,” he said, looking for more coffee and took the present with more than a bit suspicion. He would open it with caution.

 

All of Harry's night mares came true as Harry sat in his Transfiguration class. He eyed this Dumbledore with a small amount of distrust. It was confusing to have two different memories of that man, one in which he was old, grey and dead. And the other memory in which he, Dumbleore, didn't like him so much just because he was a Slytherin. Both pictures had holes and didn't match, Harry decided that he didn't is a big Dumbledore fan, because the older Dumbledore let him die _without_ telling him.

“Professor,” Riddle said. “I volunteer to work with Potter. I fell confident that I can help him should any problem or question appear.” Riddle smiled and Harry really wanted to punch him. Beating him with all of his power into the next millennium.

“If you say so, Mr Riddle.” Dumbledore looked as would he like ro refuse and Harry hoped that the professor would at least do him this one, silent, favour. It was oblivious that that wasn't the case at all and Harry hated him a bit more.

The task they had to fulfil was relative easy. His future/past self is/was nineteen years old, for Merlin's sake, of course he could complete their task but Harry found pleasure in the way Riddle's face changed with every passing minute in which Harry failed to finish the exercise. Riddle, of course, succeeded at the first try.

 

If Harry had known that failing would get Riddle to back off he would have taken it into account earlier. His life got a lot easier as Riddle decided that he wasn't worth his attention. Even his, Riddle's, little pups figured out that they could stop and that Riddle was back to his normal behaviour.

It was nice to talk to Selene again, without fearing that their conversations were eavesdropped. He told her about his dreams, ignored her _big_ smile as he talked about the presence like it was an actual being he cared about, the different feelings he noticed in these dreams from the being, and his other life. His original life.

“You know, Harry. You two share a bond.” He had no idea what she was talking about and she wasn't going to give him a single hint. “It's beautiful to watch while its growing and yet so sad. I'm sorry for you.”

 

Within the next weeks Selene and the being were his only constant. While he dreamed he could flee into the embrace of the presence so that he could bear his other life. He might already have lived through it but he had been more mature at that time, he had had to be strong for others and himself and as that Harry, in 1945, he didn't need to be that way. Here he was a loved son, with parents and a home.

Harry walked through the graveyard again. He watched as Cedric Diggory felt to the ground, dead. What if he had been faster? Would Cedric be still alive?

He watched Voldemort's resurrection, felt the nausea and the cold of the old Riddle's gravestone in his back, the pain of Voldemort's Crucio and the helplessness as Voldemort summoned his followers. His parents came to rescue him, like he was a child in need, and the duel.

They had called him a liar and that he was responsible for Cedric's death.

A liar. Someone who had wanted to fetch attention.

And as they finally believed him it was too late, and a second, a third war because of a dark wizard, war began.

 

Harry wasn't so sure what was and what will be. He had a second Harry in his head, with different and oh so terrible memories. And he wasn't sure what was worse. To know that you had a second person in your head or that you and the second person were the _same_ person.

Harry considered writing his parents, but he wasn't sure what he should tell them. It was confusing for him to write a letter to parents and the concept of parenting was suddenly new and strange in his eyes because he had never parents before; or had he? It all was so confusing.

He looked down the tower and wondered how long it would take to fall down and if he would see Ron and Hermione again if he jumped. He wondered if they missed him or if they had forgotten about Harry, just as he had before the dreams started. Would he wake up and be with them again or would he be dead?

“ _Harry_.” The moon was so small. The wind felt heavy and so cold against his heated skin. “Look at me, Harry.” And he did.

“You know Riddle,” Harry said smiling, a thin and failed smile, suddenly knowing and being aware of _things_. “You'll be the cause of so much mourning. Death'll follow your every step, wherever you try to hide. I could, I _should_ , stop you. Kill you. But then I wouldn't be better than you. And let me tell you. Bad things happen with wizards who are playing with time.” There was a crazy little smile on Harry's face as he thought on the scolding Hermione would give him now. “You are my future, Tom Riddle. My past and the present. I loathe you for it and I understand you in some weird way. But I can't forgive.” And he couldn't. At least not yet. He knew that Tom wasn't Voldemort but they were somehow so similar.

Harry stood still, not moving a single muscle. His mouth formed a firm line, his body was shaking and suddenly he was in an embrace. It was secure, and he knew that Tom Riddle was the being from his dreams. He hated him for it as tears began to wet Tom's shirt. He hated it that he felt so safe and calm.

His lips touched Tom's, just to try if it felt like the one in his dream and it was better. Not saying a word Tom pulled him even closer, as he, Harry, would be his only anchor when it was the other way around, and held him until someone of them was ready to let go.

“There is such a small balance between now and then, Tom. Sometimes I don't know what was and what is or what will be. Did I see it or did it already happen? Or will it ever happen? Time is such a strange construct, don't you think so as well?” Harry looked into Tom's eyes and saw more emotions than he thought it was possible to see in Tom Riddle.

Harry startled as his magic was touched. Just a bit at first but then... Harry let his magic reach out as well, unsure of what will happen, but he was alright to give it a try.

“Time'll show us our future,” Tom said, still hugging him, spending him his warmth.

And Harry heard Selene's voice in his head.

 

_A bond which they shared._

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

\- The End -

**Author's Note:**

> And? Let me know what you thought/think about it.


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